Stop the Steal

I’m extremely pissed.

Pissed at the idiots who stormed the capital with no clear objective and did nothing but harm Trump supporters everywhere and effectively killed whatever MAGA movement there was and probably killed whatever Red Wave there was going to be in 2022 and probably cost us the presidency in 2024.

I’m disgusted with President Trump. I voted for him in 2020 and now I’m glad he won’t be president, and January 20th can’t come soon enough. He might have had some of the best policy positions of the last 30 years, and governed more conservatively than everyone since and maybe including Reagan, but that man can’t lead for anything. His denouncement yesterday wasn’t an incitement of violence, but it was pathetic and further illustrated how terrible he is at communicating and pathetic he is at leading and channeling energy and a movement. We should have had a massive landslide victory, but he is so bad at communicating that instead he scared more people into voting against him than any candidate in US history.

And as far as that goes, I’m disgusted with the lack of leadership in the Republican Party as well.

100,000+ directionless leaderless people full of pent up energy fueled by hopeless rage, and Trump whips them into a frenzy and leads them to the Capital building?? What an absolutely idiotic waste.

What I would have loved to hear was something like the following:

We’re here today because we’re pissed.

We’re pissed that we have legitimate grievances and concerns over what looks to be a stolen election.

We’re pissed because the mainstream media has done everything they can for the last 4 years to be-little, mock, marginalize, and malign us.

We’re pissed because our elected officials seem spineless and unable to actually do anything. Constantly chasing the left and then they get power and have no idea how or what to actually do with it.

Well we are doing something, and no matter what happens today we aren’t going to stop!

We are going to stand here today and in so doing be a visible reminder that we won’t be silenced, bullied, and ignored.

No matter what happens today, we have to stop paying our enemies to spit in our faces.

Money talks. Cancel Netflix. Cancel Disney+. Cancel Twitter. Cancel Facebook. Cancel Instagram. Cancel your cable. Cancel ESPN and stop supporting any sports saturating itself in woke nonsense. Stop fueling the fire that is burning us.

Take back the culture. Build something, support someone who is on your side instead of against you. Find conservative outlets. Find conservative artists and entertainment.

For all our lives we’ve been hearing from hateful, judgemental, intollerant people about how hateful, judgemental, and intollerant we are.

Well let’s show everyone what love is. Let’s show everyone quality, integrity, honor, goodness, kindness, and hard work.

Let’s be so good they can’t ignore us.

Stand here today and bear witness. And then, go home and get to work.

No matter what happens this isn’t the end, this is only the beginning.

This is the beginning of a fire that you are going to light.

Not a violent fire. Not the fire of a coward throwing fireworks and Molotov cocktails and breaking down windows and burning down buildings. Not the fire of groups of cowards attacking peaceful people. Not the fire of angry young men beating other people’s grandmas.

But the fire of greatness that you hold in your hearts that can burn across the land if we can be good enough and strong enough.

Right will win. Good will prevail. No amount of tyranny and oppression can snuff out this fire that we hold in our hearts.

It’s going to take work and sacrifice but in the end we will have something that will have been worth it.

You think the government shouldn’t pay for healthcare? Then start a charity that does it! You think people shouldn’t get abortions? Train your young men not to impregnate anyone they aren’t going to lay down their lives to love, protect, and take care of! You think we shouldn’t be sending our jobs to China? Buy American! Demand companies not take advantage of communist slave labor!

Stop giving your money to your oppressors.

Start reaching out to and helping and loving your neighbor.

You might think Netflix doesn’t care about your $15/mo so what does it matter, but there’s so many Conservative media companies that need your support. And if all of us actually supported them instead of Big Tech and Leftist media it would make a huge impact both against those that hate us, and for those among us who are trying to make a difference. Trying to make art, entertainment, and news that doesn’t sneer at us while we give them our money.

Take back our Culture. Stop the steal.

It starts today. Do it now. Be strong, be determined, be good, be brave.

Now let’s show America what a truly peaceful protest is. Let’s show them that even though they might be able to steal the presidency, they can’t steal our joy. They can’t steal our laughter.

They’ve been giving us angry mobs, let’s give them love, laughter, and smiles, no matter what happens.

Let’s stand here today and talk to each other. The left has angry mobs, we have welcoming parties where everyone is welcome who isn’t spewing hate and oppression.

Stand here today and make friends, make connections, make deals. Then go home and support each other. Be leaders in a new and peaceful cultural revolution, and in so doing we can truly stop them, regardless of what happens today, from stealing America from us.

God bless us. And God bless America. Thank you for coming.

It could have been so good. But instead it was a horror show.

In the beginning

This is a paper I wrote as a requirement for a Diaconate training course within the OCA (Orthodox Church in America) under Fr. Silviu Buntu. The topic of the course was traditional Orthodox interpretation of Scripture.

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.

The goal of this paper will be to illustrate traditional interpretation of Scripture as practiced by the Jews and early Christians and continued primarily in the Eastern Church.

In the West there is a recent movement to treat the scriptures as a piece of literature. Dead words on a dead page to be dissected and picked apart, its organs harvested and distilled, at best down to medicine or tools, and at worst mere entertainment.

Contrast this with historical understanding and practices, where Scripture is alive and timeless.

The fundamental lens through which its authors and early audiences looked at scripture is the bifocal lens of:

  1. God is speaking to and about you.
  2. When God speaks, it is for your edification (it is useful to you).
Continue reading “In the beginning”


Written for a Halloween Writing Contest. Genre is “Urban Fantasy”. It’s sort of like Dresden Files, Peter Pan, and Midsummer Night’s Dream had a baby, with Jordan Peterson playing midwife. It is Chapter 1 of a full length novel I’m “working on”.

Halloween night. The perfect time for a summoning. Or ordering bags of your favorite candy from Amazon and hoping your house get’s TP’d (which, this year amounts to an act of charitable giving).

It’s time to get some answers, and maybe start to fix whatever the heck (waves hand in circular motion) “all this is”.

Summoning is pretty simple. Make a circle on the ground (chalk is easiest). Set the mood with a few or as many of the items that remind you of your intent as you can. Invest it with a drop of blood. Concentrate really hard on who or what you want to appear there. Say their Name three times and pull really hard like you’re Luke Skywalker trying to get the light saber out of the ice and then hope to God you have the mental fortitude to maintain concentration to keep the being physically bound within the circle. Bigger the being, stronger the circle needs to be; it’s more art and psychology than science (actually its specifically not science. It’s magic). Whatever you do, don’t break the circle.

“Tinkerbell. Tinkerbell. Tinkerbell.”

Snap, crackle, pop, and there she is. Six inches of blazing light zipping around like a banshee venting her fury (yeah, being summoned always pisses them off) with pyrotechnics that make Michael Bay look like an amateur. So beautiful… Stay focused! Just because she can’t get to you physically doesn’t mean she isn’t already in your head.

She freezes in mid-air, spinning around to face me, balanced on one leg, toes pointed to rest delicately on what looks like an illuminated manuscript painting of the sun floating flatly a foot above the ground. Smile spreading mischievously across her face.

“Good evening Andrew.” 

I’d stumbled across this particular pixie some years ago. Kids, don’t try this at home, but you can go fishing for fae and hope that whatever you happen to call doesn’t completely outclass you and eat your brain. I’d realized that there was zero chance Walt Disney was making it all up, and was probably “in the know” like the Brothers Grimm before him. So I picked a being he portrayed as powerful, but also mostly benign, and hoped he wasn’t too far off. I was in no way disappointed.

“Good evening Tink.”

She nods her head demurely, and I relax a little now that her initial anger at being summoned has faded and we are no longer fighting a battle of wills. She begins to zip more calmly around the circle examining the focus items I have set around the edges just outside the chalk lines. As she nears them the candles change hue slightly (neat trick…) and the flame grows a little. If I cared to, I could have gazed into the flame and caught glimpses of things

She zips from the little pile of miniature pumpkins, across to the giant Russian sunflower head, and then over to a painting of Peter Pan, at which she oddly turns an angry bright red all over, stomps her foot and sticks out her tongue. The nearby candles flare greatly and I catch a glimpse of a man in a woman’s arms in one and a woman gazing coldly at them from another for just a moment, before she turns to give me a flat sorrowful glare.

“What is it you require?” She asks, and then zips off across to a beloved stuffed koala that used to keep me company in my crib as a child. “Oooh!” She squeals in delight a little shower of dust sprinkling out (there’s the stuff!) while she dances and spins, exclaiming, “But you would have made such a lost boy!” And as quickly as the exclamation had come it was gone again and now she’s standing gazing longingly at a little pile of dark chocolate salted caramels.

Faeries are unpredictable and have the attention span of a gnat. Which is odd, since they’re immortal… But I guess when something with a lifespan that would measure in comparative eye blinks wants to talk to you, it’s probably hard to pay them much mind at all, especially given all the billion year old relationships you have to maintain. It was honestly shocking she even remembered my name from one summoning to the next, but maybe it had something to do with our bargain.

“Pixie dust.” I hold up a nearly empty leather bag and give it a little shake to indicate my poverty. Happy thoughts and a little magic dust and you can fly. Tink here is my source.

She rolls her eyes, “Surely that’s not all.”

“Pay up Tink! We have a deal.”

She gives me an unamused deadpan glare and begins to hop, fairy dust showering down in a little ring all around her. “There. Good?”

“Actually, one more thing…”

“As expected…” She smiles guilelessly, “what else?”

Gulp. Those teeth and dimples. I feel bad brining it up, but still, I’ve had enough! “What  is going on!?” I yell at her, a little more angrily than I had intended. Actually, I hadn’t intended to yell at all. But seriously! What is going on?

She freezes with the stillness of a house cat intent on a rabbit, and some part of my brain sounds an alarm that it can’t decide which she reminds me more of.

“I thought so.” I nod, tight lipped and determined.

“Whatever are you talking about?” She says through her frozen smile, barely affecting any of the faux innocence she’s going for.

“Give it up Tink. The world is falling right the hell apart. Global Pandemic, riots going on over 100 days now, choice between a clown and a vegetable for president. What. Is. Going. On.”

Continue reading “Titania”

Halloween Writing Contest Entry – First Draft

This is the first draft of Titania, which I wrote for a halloween writing contest entry. I’m leaving it here as an example of how much change a story (can) go through from early to later revisions.

Halloween. Perfect for a summoning. Or ordering bags of your favorite candy from Amazon and hoping your house get’s TP’d (which, this year amounts to an act of charitable giving).

It’s time to get some answers, and maybe start to fix whatever the hell (waves hand in circular motion) “all this is”.

Continue reading “Halloween Writing Contest Entry – First Draft”

Notes to a Friend, or “The Godwork Machine”

Note: My recreational fiction writing was slammed into an extended pause following my coming down with the worst cold I’ve ever had (lasted basically the month of March 2020. Antibody tests indicate it was not COVID, but that is almost beyond belief for me). In the meantime, I have written a lot, but have not yet come back to my fiction. The following is one of the things I wrote during this time.

My dear friend Chris Corwin wrote a journal entry he created in response to a daily journaling prompt and kindly shared it with me today.

The prompt was “do you believe in God”.

I’m going to comment on some specific portions here, after summarizing it.

Continue reading “Notes to a Friend, or “The Godwork Machine””


This is Part 4 of the longer story “Core“. Here are Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath, and turned around. There were eight other people on the elevator with me. A black gentlemen in a light blue blazer, narrow brimmed had, and dark sunglasses stood relaxed nearby clutching a briefcase and umbrella. A plump woman in a black dress covered with tiny white flowers, a necklace of fat round pearls strung round her neck. A youngish west-coast professional looking man in chinos and a polo. An old Chinese lady with a huge canvas hand-bag. None of them looked out the window, or gave any indication of concern or really any inclination to do anything but stand and wait what might come. Most of them politely ignored the existence of everyone else.

Two teenaged Japanese girls glanced timidly around periodically, obviously texting each other while they stood shoulder to co-ordinated-to-complement-outfitted shoulder.

I had to get off. Why was everyone standing around so placidly while we zoomed down? Especially so far! We just fell below the surface!

I looked around frantically for the control console or, failing to find that, for the floor indicators. I gripped the core tightly and clutched it protectively to my chest. I stepped forward to approach the doors of the inner, micro, elevator for a closer look.

Suddenly they opened.

Continue reading “Mop”


This is Part 3 of the longer story “Core“. Here are Part 1, and Part 2.

I exploded out into the concourse, pounded across the grey tile and into the bazaar. Legs churning, I ran past and stumbled into tables placed seemingly at random and strewn with cheap junk.

I looked down at the core in my hand. It was like some sort of Bic pen with a fat red core and an eye-dropper for a tip. What the heck? I had no idea what this thing was, but whatever was in it came out of my head. Some part of me screamed with greed and defiance, demanding that I do everything I could to protect it.

I ran on. If I could find an elevator or an escalator or anything I might be able to get away.

“Stop! Come back!” Pocket Square called after me.

Continue reading “Switch”


This is Part 2 of the longer story “Core“. See here for Part 1.

I was very much taken aback. Most of his fingers were normal looking, but several were extremely misshapen and stubby and small. I looked up at his face and saw no indication that he thought there was anything particularly strange or different about his hand. My shock was reflected on the maiden’s face, her eyes wide. She was suddenly sitting very straight, looking at his hand and trying not to gape.

I glanced at Pocket Square. He seemed to have leaned forward ever so slightly, his posture intensely expectant. A wolf about to pounce.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. Hesitantly I put my own elbow on the table and opened my hand. I looked up at Mo-hawk’s face again, a bit helplessly. There was no obvious way to clasp his hand and I wasn’t sure where to begin. He seemed completely unconcerned, and in fact wasn’t even looking at my hand.

Continue reading “Core”